Sad Days

I've been told in the past that I'm quite a sensitive person.  That I take on others worries and sadness and let things get me down.  It's totally true I know, it's not a conscious thing it's just how I am, and so I have spent some time learning how to change thought patterns and negative cycles and just be a more positive and happy person.

A friend once said to me that one of his little tactics was to always reply 'I'm good' whenever someone asked him how he was.  Not 'I'm OK' or 'Not bad', always reply that you're good.  In that way you are telling your mind to focus on the things that are good and not the things that have irritated you already today, or how stressed you are about such and such etc etc.

I have definitely become someone who sees more of the funny side, and someone who actively seeks to find something positive out of a bad day, this much I know.  I have reaped the benefit of this on many occasions where in the past I would have been miserable or upset and angry, and in the process I have generally become a happier, brighter person.  I'm not saying I'm the life and soul, just that I'm a lot better than I was (is that a negative thought?!!).

On the flipside, I also believe that the whole 'must be positive all the time' thing can be unhealthy.  At least I know that it can be unhealthy for me!  There comes a point when putting a lid on your emotions is no longer the right thing to do, and it is time to just allow yourself to be sad, or angry, or whatever it is you are feeling.  Sod it if other people don't get it, take some time out and do whatever it is you need to do to deal with it, and only then can you put it behind you and move on.
Often when I'm feeling angry or frustrated I visualise myself smashing crockery against a brick wall.  One day I may actually buy some crockery for the sole purpose of smashing but thankfully it hasn't come to that yet!!!!  I also find listening to music and singing (not for people to hear obviously!!) is excellent at getting me out of a bad mood.  When I'm feeling sad, I cry.  I have gradually over the years become one of those people who cries at bloomin adverts on the TV, let alone when something is actually sad!!  I've yet to find a better coping mechanism for sadness so usually I end up comfort eating, having a couple of glasses of wine and a good old sob.

You may be wondering what on Earth this has to do with my Marathon journey, this random rambling of mine, and in all honesty I applaud you for getting this far into this blog post that you probably thought would be about running!!!

Well it is connected in a way, as I previously mentioned that I use running as a form of therapy.  I can run off a bad mood, I can run to take my mind off things, I can run if I'm feeling sad and know that I will feel less sad by the end.  But I also mentioned I run to show that I care, about 'those that have fought the battle and won, those still fighting, and those who have fought the battle and lost'.

Well, today one of those fighters lost his battle against Pancreatic cancer.  Which in my book, makes today a sad day, and I make no apologies for that.

RIP Foxy.
You didn't get to do the Marathon yourself this year, I'll make damn sure I'm there on your behalf next year.

Not posting = not running

The weekend will mark a fortnight since I last went for a run.

This was not in the plan!

My body seems to be conspiring against me at the moment and I'm pretty anxious about it.
After my last run, I started to develop a headache and was feeling sick.  I thought it might have been dehydration so I made sure I drank a lot of water, but to no avail.  The exertion of getting out of bed on Monday morning reduced me to tears because I felt so terrible, so back to bed I went.  I was fretting because I knew it was going to be a busy week and I didn't have the time to be ill, but my body had other ideas.  6pm I got up out of bed, and not because I felt much better, just because I couldn't lay there any more.  By 10pm I was back in bed.
I felt loads better the following morning, and so thought that whatever it was had passed, however not so.  I felt sick whenever I ate anything and was generally feeling pretty low, not helped by being at work late each evening.  On Thursday morning around 11.30am the headache and nausea returned with a vengeance and I left the office in tears to head home.  I couldn't go to bed though, which is what my body wanted me to do, I had too much work to do.  So I sat on the sofa with the curtains closed working on my laptop.  It took me until 3.30pm to be able to take a sip of drink, and another hour before I could stomach half a sandwich.  It was only at this point that I could take any pain relief too, and by the evening I was starting to feel much better.
By this point I had admitted to myself that there was no way I was going to complete all the work I needed to do before the Monday deadline, and I don't know whether letting go of that deadline was what made me start to feel a bit better, but Friday I was relatively spritely, although still feeling sick most of the day.

I went away to Wales for the weekend with some of my best friends, and it was just the tonic.  Honestly, I needed that so badly.  I spent some time playing with my 3 year old friend Freyja on the Friday night, and I could feel myself relaxing and the tension draining from me.  It struck me then that I hadn't even realised quite how stressed I had allowed myself to get, little wonder I was ill.  I now honestly think that stress was the major factor in how ill I had been feeling.

Looking back over the previous couple of weeks it's little wonder!  Finding out that one of your close friends has a life-threatening illness is pretty devastating.  It was the 5 year anniversary of Kat's death after fighting that same disease.  The atmosphere in the office had been low as folks had been to visit one of our colleagues who is losing his battle against pancreatic cancer.  On the Friday evening, just as I was packing my bags for the weekend away I got a call from my Mum, in tears.  This is never a good thing!  Turns out my Uncle Michael had a heart attack and had been rushed to hospital earlier that day.  He needed urgent bypass surgery.  I'm so pleased to be able to report that it went well and he is now going from strength to strength.

Sadness just seems to be all around and all-encompassing sometimes.

I knew I wouldn't be able to run whilst we were away, the weather was too appalling!  Plus I wanted to be able to relax and enjoy time with my friends, so I didn't even take my running kit.  I had planned on getting in a run on the Monday evening after we got back, but I had a little accident on Sunday and running has been out of the question this week as a result!
We had a little break in the weather, there was even a brief flash of sunshine, so myself, Pete and Sui went for a little walk up a hill behind the cottage we were staying in.  It was fab!  So good to get out of breath, get to the top and admire the views and get a little windswept, knowing we could head back down for some mulled wine.  Heading back down turned out to be a dangerous activity for me!  The ground was grassy, wet and steep, and we were all slipping around a bit so we took our time and joked about who would fall over first.  Stupid bluddy question really eh!  My feet went from under me, and I landed on my bum, closely followed by my head.  The resulting whiplash is still causing me the occasional twinge of pain and codeine has been my best friend this week.

So, after all of that, you could be forgiven for thinking that a run this weekend would be just the tonic.  Get me back into it, no time constraints, fresh air and time out, all things I need.  But I was dealt a bit of a blow yesterday.  I had a mole on my back that was causing me concern, and my GP agreed and referred me to a specialist.  I say HAD a mole, because yesterday she removed it.  I'm a bit sore today, but more of an issue is the fact that she has told me I shouldn't run for at least a week if I want to avoid the wound getting infected, and two weeks if I want to avoid pulling the stitches too much.  It's advice rather than instructions, and I am feeling torn.  Should I just go for a run and take the risk, given I am fretting about all this time off, or should I take her advice and wait another week before heading out to be sure I don't end up with an infection?

What would you do?

Life is a rollercoaster...

Monday 12th November.  What a day of ups and downs!

As I had mentioned, I put a whole load of new kit into my amazon basket, and on Monday I used vouchers from work to hit submit on the order.  I was feeling very pleased with myself because I had managed to get a few bargains - two pairs of running socks for £3.99, two long sleeved wicking tops for only £4.99 each in the sale, a pair of thermal running trousers and a thermal running top.

In the afternoon I had a doctors appointment to have a blood pressure test to make sure my medication is working, and thankfully it was great (110 over 80 which for me is a flippin miracle!).  I have also been referred for a dodgy mole so chased that up, and finally spoke a little about my aches and pains.  I have to say, the doctor was new, and it felt a bit to me like she was in a rush.  As such I didn't feel the inclination to go into too much detail with her, but she prescribed me some codeine for pain relief, again told me to rest, and also told me that I should under no circumstances be taking ibuprofen whilst exercising with my medical history.  I was pretty surprised by that, and would have pressed her for an explanation but as I said, she was in a rush so the most I got from her was that my body would struggle to process it with one kidney and being on medication for my blood pressure (whilst putting my coat on and being ushered towards the door).  Weird, but hey, I now have a LOT of codeine and suffice to say I have been in a lot less pain this week!

When I got home, the post had arrived and there was a pack for me from Cancer Research UK which contained my marathon vest.  I was expecting the usual turquoise, so it was with a smile on my face that I opened the packaging to reveal a really rather fetching vest in dark purple, pink and white.  It might sound funny but receiving the vest made me feel a little excited and emotional!  Little things like that make the whole thing seem very real, and when I think about it I do still get butterflies!  I had decided to take the week off running in order to rest the groin strain and various other injuries, so seeing the vest that I will be wearing on the day gave me a little lift.

I had already decided that I would like to add names to my marathon vest of all the people I know who have been affected by cancer.  Those that have fought the battle and won, those still fighting, and those who have fought the battle and lost.  I figure these people are my motivation and so I'd like to have them with me for the whole journey.  I have a list of 9 names so far and I decided I would sew the names onto my vest with silver thread.

Later that evening, I was perusing facebook as you do, and I saw the news that one of my good friends has aggressive breast cancer.  It completely floored me to read that.  We exchanged texts, and privately I had a good old cry.  I just can't believe that this is happening to my lovely friend.

And just like that, I have another name to add to my vest.  Just like that.

So today I took my vest to a craft shop in Reading in order to match the best colour thread so that I can start adding these names.  Whilst in there I discovered a fab range of buttons, and so my plan has now changed.  Each of those 10 people will have a button with their name on it sewn onto my running top.

This is for you guys;
Kat, Claire, Tina, Alison, Joleen, Daithi, Kevin, Freda, Tony and Zeph.

Niggles

After the relative elation of managing to reach my first target early last weekend, I have definitely had the wind knocked out of my sails this week.

I have been nursing a few little niggly aches and pains for a few weeks now, but after the 10 miler on Sunday I added a new one to the list which has scared me, because it's a groin strain, and as I mentioned earlier in my blog this one has had me out on the injury bench before.

To list the niggles out might help me put them into perspective I think.

1. Pain in my right wrist and the back of my hand, between my little finger and the one next to it.  Especially when stirring things, or trying to write.  My right wrist is the one I broke, and this time last year was recovering from an operation on, so I am suspicious about these pains and what might be causing them!  So much so, I booked myself in for a session with my old physio last week, which I have paid for myself rather than claiming on private healthcare.  Jess had a good old feel and tested range of movement etc. and decided that she couldn't see anything wrong and was pleased with the mobility in my wrist.  I am under instruction to do some exercises and to call her back in a couple of weeks if there is no improvement or if the pain gets worse, so watch this space!  I can confirm that after a weekend of no writing and no baking, the pain is much better, however I will test the water properly next week and see what happens.
2. Pain in my left side and back, in the area of my ribs.  I think that I must have pulled something 3 weeks ago when putting my trainers on, as I remember suddenly getting a sharp pain in my side before I even started running, which meant that when I took a breath in I got a wave of incredible pain.  This is still lingering and causing me the occasional issue, such as if I lean on my left arm on the sofa, or sleep on my left side.
3. Pain in my left heel for the past couple of weeks.  I am pretty certain this is plantar fasciitis and as such have been doing all sorts of calf stretches, which seems to be improving the situation.
4. Pain in my right knee.  This is the one that I dislocated four times last year, and is still very unstable.  Sometimes it is OK and sometimes it clicks when I walk.  When I run, I often get a few niggles from this knee, usually at the start and finish of the run.  I think that when I have done this marathon, I will be getting a second opinion from a different knee specialist, and asking for my bone chip to be removed.
5. The aforementioned groin strain, in my left leg.

All advice I sought, and could find courtesy of google, has confirmed the need to rest the groin strain, so I only went for one run last week on Thursday morning.  A little 4.5 miler.  And I can confirm that it was quite painful, and at times I could feel myself limping a little bit.  Since then I have found even walking agony at times, so I haven't been for a run this weekend.  What I have done instead is some gentle stretching, and am feeling a lot less pain this evening.  

If I'm honest, it's been getting to me a bit this week.  I'm worried that these little niggles could grow into bigger things that hinder my training and halt my momentum, and it feels like two steps forwards and one step back.  Although when you actually think about that statement, that's still a step in the right direction isn't it so I shouldn't be too down on myself and my poor old body!

In an effort to keep my spirits up, I have tonight added a load of new running kit to my basket on Amazon, which I shall purchase tomorrow.  The next item on the list is to sort myself out with some new trainers, so a trip to Sweatshop is in order.  Because there is nothing like shiny new kit to make me want to get back out there I reckon!  Wish me luck!

This life is more than just a read-through

Music plays an important part in my life.  I go to a lot of gigs and listen to music most days at work.  I find it can lift you, empathise with your foul mood or just plain make you smile.

When I am running, most of the time I find I have a song stuck in my head.  It can be the last one I listened to, or just something completely random that has popped in there for no particular reason.  At the moment I'm going through a rather irritating phase of having the song below stuck in my head when I go for early morning runs, and it's one that I definitely have to encourage back out of my head by any means necessary!!

Good morning!

Last weekend, I was at the beginning of a much-needed week off work, and so was feeling great.  I had some lovely things planned in to do, and I also knew that I would be able to go for at least one run during the week, in daytime.  Since the clocks were changing that weekend I knew that all my weekday runs going forwards were going to have to be dull laps around Green Park, as my usual run routes are on unlit footpaths.
And so on the Saturday morning, I headed off with hopes of running 8-9 miles, to keep me on track for my 'run 10 miles by the end of 2012' target.  My current favourite track is 'Not Giving In' by Rudimental, so I had that stuck in my head.
However, give in I did.
I have absolutely no idea what happened, but after a mile and a half I just felt like I couldn't keep going.  I thought I would change the plan and run 6-7 miles instead, in the hopes that the thought of a shorter distance would encourage me and buoy me up, however it didn't work.  My legs felt good, my breathing was fine, no stitch, I just couldn't keep going.  I forced myself to drag my sorry backside around 4.5 miles, but it has to be said, I came very close to calling Pete and asking him to come and pick me up.  Something was definitely up with my body, because by the time I got home, I was a sneezing mess, and one of my eyes had swollen up really badly.  I felt like I had a cold that had come on over the course of the run!

It's safe to say that this wasn't part of the marathon training plan!  I think basically my body was trying to tell me that I hadn't given it a cut-back week yet, and that it was in holiday mode thank you very much so enough with this running lark!

By the time I woke up the next day, all signs of the cold had gone.

A couple of days later, I had to run again.  I knew I had to run again, however I was feeling so deflated I was dreading it.  I was trying to talk myself out of it, but thankfully Pete wouldn't let me!  And so run I did, and this time I had 'Can't Stop' by Red Hot Chili Peppers stuck in my head.  And this time I didn't!  I ran an easy 6 miler, and could have run further but decided I wanted to save my long run for the weekend, as that is going to be the routine going forwards.

Fast forward to today.  I am sitting here enjoying a glass of wine in celebration of achieving my target of a 10 mile run by the end of the year, 8 weeks and 1 day early!  Again, I have no idea how it happened.  I set out with the aim of 8 miles, just so as not to intimidate myself too much, and to cut a long (2 hours 51 seconds long to be precise!) story short, I added loops here there and everywhere and before I knew it, I had done 10 miles.  And the song stuck in my head?  It was that Rudimental one again.  'Not Giving In'.  And this time, I didn't!

And just in case you still have 'Good Morning' stuck in your head (sorry about that), here is the Rudimental track for you, which will hopefully replace it!

Not Giving In

In my dreams

That is where I am currently running marathons!

I keep having dreams about running, and not always good ones!

The latest involved running the marathon and feeling good, but then I kept getting lost.  I would be running and someone would stop me and tell me I'd taken a wrong turn.  So I'd turn around, but then not remember where I had came from and not be able to find my way back.  Then I would see people running so I'd go and join them, but somehow end up doing the same thing again.  At one point in my dream I was so lost I had several people all trying to help me find my way back to the race!  And all I was thinking was how I had trained to run a marathon and all of this extra running might mean I wouldn't be able to finish!
Needless to say I woke up in a bit of a panic.

Is this sort of paranoia normal for a first time marathon runner, or am I just stressing a bit too much?!  I have 5 months and 28 days to go, and can currently run a third of the distance.  I'm on track with my training, with my last run being a few steps short of 8.5 miles and my aim to be at 10 miles by the end of the year.  So why the panicky dreams?!

I know the answer.  It's because it means so much to me.  And that has got to be a good thing really.

Nobody said achieving your dreams would be easy.  In fact my new mantra when I am finding a run tough going is to remind myself that if this really is my dream, I have to keep going even when it feels like I can't do it.  Because your dreams don't just fall into your lap, you have to work hard to achieve them.  And so far, it's working.  I always tell myself that it's ok if I need to walk up the hills, or take a rest every now and again, but thus far I haven't needed either, and for that I'm pretty proud!

I haven't yet had a dream in which I actually finish the marathon, but that's OK.  I'd rather live that then dream it!!

SU2C

Stand Up to Cancer

I've been alternating between feeling tearful and inspired all night, but either way, I have donated, have you?

Running as Therapy

This isn't an easy post for me to write but I want to get it out there.

I already mentioned that my friend Kat getting cancer was my inspiration to take up running, to raise money for Cancer Research.  When she lost her battle, I continued running, and continued trying to raise money for charity by organising Friendship Walks, and helping to get a Wear it Pink day reinstated at work.

But it hasn't just been Kat.  In the 6 years that I have been running, I have watched cancer touch too many lives around me.  My boss had breast cancer (and has thankfully been clear for a few years now), an old friend was diagnosed with bowel cancer whilst in her mid 30's (another going against the statistics, and after over a year of being fobbed off with the old 'IBS' diagnosis).  A colleague in the US is still fighting the fight three years down the line.  The very lady who was there to comfort me when I got the phone call about Kat, has herself recently started back at work after 18 months of treatment for breast cancer.  Less than a year ago, another colleague was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.  He had been planning to run the marathon himself this year but that wasn't to be.  And then there is Daithi, who passed away in January, less than a year after a lung cancer diagnosis in his mid 30's.  Pete's parents have both battled the disease this year too, so there has been no getting away from it!

If I'm honest, at times it has all felt a bit relentless!  With all this going on, amongst other things, I have found myself getting quite anxious and down, and at one point I took anti-depressants in order to try and snap out of it.  That didn't really work for me, so I started on a course of computer based cognitive behaviour therapy.  Whilst there were aspects of it that I really got, I found some parts of it quite irritating and time consuming, and so I only kept it up for a few months.  This was all going on pretty much during the time when I had stopped running.  I remember talking to my doctor at the time and somehow we ended up on the topic of cancer, and I relayed my experiences of what had been happening around me.  She seemed to completely understand, and that 10 minute discussion with her was a huge turning point for me.  I'm not going to go into detail about it but she opened my eyes to a few things and helped me to understand why I was feeling the way I was.

For me, I've already mentioned that running is escapism.  By that I mean that it has been my way of dealing with things I find stressful.  When I run, I don't listen to music, and I don't think about anything at all other than what is going on around me.  It is the only time I ever really switch off and have a break (I have one of those irritating brains that likes to mull things over and over and over, so this is especially valuable for me!).  Alongside that complete time-out, I also get to enjoy being out and about, and I have seen some beautiful things when out running.  From all sorts of wildlife (not just the cows, but deer, rabbits, squirrels, cats, sheep, birds, the list could go on and on), to some absolutely awesome early morning frosts, and sunsets that would take your breath away!  I'm lucky that I can escape into farmland owned by Reading University, which means that I get a certain amount of solitude, and some spectacular views (and smells - well, it is a dairy farm after all!).  I have taken a few photo's, which I will get up in a separate post at some point, but a lot of the time I just can't get my phone to capture what I am seeing.  I like to think that it's natures way of ensuring that I keep getting out there and seeing those things with my own eyes!

But running has also been a way of doing something constructive.  It has been for me, my way of showing that I care.  I can't really do anything to help, but I can go running and I can raise a bit of money for Cancer Research.  I keeps me fit and it keeps me sane - it's a bit of a win-win situation really!

Running is therapy!

The Injury Bench - Part Three (the one with the Marathon place)

After the best part of 18 months with no running and very little exercise at all really, I found a running buddy at work.  We were both starting from a base of not very much, and as such our aims were similar - take it easy, build up slowly and see where we end up.

And so we started going running after work, a couple of times a week usually.  We had a little challenge going between three of us that whoever got to a particular mileage first would have lunch bought for them by the person in third place.  It seemed to be just the kick-start I needed, and I found myself going running even when my running buddy was injured, or couldn't make it.  I was soon streaking ahead in the challenge, so we extended the mileage to give the others a chance to catch up.  I had got the distance back up to 10k running laps around Green Park, and was just about to go off on two back-to-back ski holidays feeling very pleased with myself that I had built up a good lead in the challenge, and also would have a better time skiing due to the extra fitness I had gained.

The first ski trip was largely uneventful (well, plenty of skiing, drinking and partying, but uneventful from an injury point of view).  Pete took a massive tumble that caused all skiers in the near vicinity to take a sharp intake of breath, but emerged unscathed.  I fell over a few times, mainly when I was stationary (it's hard to stay still on blades on a ski slope!!) but on the last night we all went out partying in good spirits and completely injury free.  Then I twisted awkwardly getting into bed and my right knee dislocated.  Pete thought I had kicked the bed and stubbed my toe, but no, the sound he had heard was actually my knee dislocating and popping back into place.  I'm glad I was a bit drunk to be honest, as it was agony and would only have been even more painful sober!!

Cue a trip to the emergency docs when I got back home, and a hefty dose of anti-inflammatory pain relief.  I was due to head off skiing again in a matter of days, but the doctor assured me he thought it would be OK so long as I used a knee support.

The second ski trip started tentatively, but I soon realised my knee was going to be OK so long as I didn't push it too much.  My ski buddy Sarah, incidentally the same person as running buddy Sarah (she does seem to get me into scrapes!) had lent me a very good knee support so I felt pretty good.

We had a great time until the very last day, where we started off on a horrible horrible icy bumpy run called "L'Office".  We nicknamed it 'A bad day at L'Office' and resolved that the rest of the day could only get better than that.  And it did, we had a great time!  I video'd Sarah making her way expertly down a Black run, we stopped for a chocolat chaud and then we went up and down our favourite run (Souréou on Rocher De L'Aigle, or Eagle Rock) a few times.  Then it was time for the long green run back down into resort to pack up the hire car and head to the airport.  Because it was the last run, we said we would do our own thing and meet back at the chalet, rather than wait for each other.  Despite this, we were mostly together on the way back down.  The snow was turning really slushy and sticky in the early afternoon sunshine and I was finding the flatter bits really tough-going, and spent a lot of time skating to get up some speed.  The next thing I knew, BANG.  I was on the floor and my right wrist really rather hurt.  I shouted to Sarah who I just saw skiing past, but to no avail.  I looked at my wrist and thought, that looks like it might be dislocated, not good.  I went to get up, but one of my blades had come off and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to get it back on, so I flagged down some passers-by who luckily included a piste rescue man.  I won't bore you with all the details, I wrote about those in another blog, but suffice to say I extended the trip by two days which I spent in Briançon hospital having surgery to repair a nastily broken wrist.

Cue my first batch of Codeine, and the start of my third and rather protracted stint on the injury bench.

After the initial break I had several weeks in plaster before the pins were removed and then another couple of weeks after that.  I then had physio and a wrist support for a month or so before being told I was OK to have a go at running, with the support on to avoid any jarring of the joint.  So it was June before I was up to running again.  I managed a handful of runs, but my knee was also sore, and to be honest I was feeling a bit down about the whole thing (sorry for myself!!).  I still had a lot of pain in my wrist and so I stopped running.  I continued with the physio, but an MRI revealed that the pain I was experiencing was due to an additional bone being broken that had thus far remained untreated, so I found out in August that I would need another operation to put in some permanent metalwork.

The op was scheduled for late September, but at the end of August I was dancing in a pub (after a few drinks, as you do) and once again my knee gave way.  And I mean REALLY gave way.  The next morning it was agony to move my leg, and it was swollen to at least twice the size of my other knee.  I ended up in A&E who decided I hadn't broken anything (without an x-ray) and gave me pain relief and anti-inflammatories.  Cue my second batch of Codeine.

By the time the wrist operation came around, my knee was looking a bit better and I was just about able to limp up the stairs to my room before the op.  I then faced another six weeks in a full arm plaster, so I was one armed and limping.  Cue my third batch of Codeine.  Codeine really was my friend in 2011!

Whilst I was sat up at home recovering from the operation, I received some mail from the London Marathon.  I had almost forgotten that I had entered, in fact I only did it to keep my '5 rejections and you get an automatic place' going, but there it was, clear as day, staring at me....

I was over the moon!  And then I reviewed the situation I found myself in - one arm in plaster, and my knee still swollen and a struggle to walk up and down stairs.  I had to laugh!  And I also knew I would have to defer my place.

I saw a specialist for my knee in early 2012 (another round of X-rays and MRI's) who determined that the best approach for me was physio to strengthen the muscles on the inside of my leg, to better hold my very mobile (you could dislocate it with one finger) patella in place.  I had noticed a lump on the outside of my knee, about the size of a large pea that moved around when you pushed it with your fingers but was obviously being held in place by something.  The specialist felt my knee and said 'Oh yes so there is' before referring back to my scans.  After about 30 seconds he just said 'I think you have chipped a bit of bone from your knee socket, but it doesn't feel like it is going anywhere so I think we will just leave it'.  I was concerned that he hadn't picked this up from the scans but chose to say nothing.  I asked him if he could remove it, he had another feel and said he would probably have to cut tendons so it would be a long recovery, and if it wasn't causing me pain it was best to leave it.  And so I left him feeling a little uneasy, but trusting him that physio was all I needed.  And that is how I find myself today - still a little uneasy but trying to keep the faith!

2009 - A year of races

2009 was a year of a lot of races for me, however it wasn't always a great one from a running point of view.

In order to stop myself from doing my normal trick of getting my fitness up and then stopping, meaning I have to start again pretty much, I decided to enter a lot of races.

The first race was a re-run of the Reading Half Marathon in March, which I ran with Sui in a PB time of 6 seconds faster than the year before (I'm nothing if not consistent!).  My time was 2 hours, 35 minutes and 13 seconds.  I am officially a snail, but hey I like to think of it as getting value for money!  I had hopes of being able to run a half marathon in under 2 hours 30 minutes but it wasn't to be at the Reading Half.  In fact if I hadn't been with Sui I am not sure I would have finished at all, as the last few miles were incredibly hard!

The next race was the Shinfield 10k in early May.  I ran this mostly with Sui and her friend Sue, however I just couldn't get a grip on my breathing pattern resulting in a nasty stitch and I couldn't keep up with them at all, so I told them to go on without me with a couple of miles to go.  I was absolutely gutted.  To be honest I have no idea what stopped me from sitting on a kerb and having a good old cry because that was how I felt, but somehow I finished a few minutes behind them.  If I had stayed with them, it would have been a PB time, but it just wasn't to be that day.

I then moved on to the Woodley 10k in the middle of May.  I arrived and was sat in the car park eating a banana with the rain absolutely lashing it down outside.  A downpour of such proportions that I did seriously consider just starting the engine back up and leaving!  However, about 15 minutes before the race was due to start, the sun miraculously appeared and I found myself at the start line.  I even made the local paper!  They had been snapping as people crossed the line, and there I was (yes I do still have the cutting)!  It wasn't a very speedy race and I struggled to get into a rhythm, so I was a bit disappointed, although I did enjoy the unexpected run in the sun!

The two 10k races were swiftly followed by the Wokingham Half Marathon.  This was originally scheduled for February however the weather conspired against it (snow) and so it was rescheduled to a freakishly hot weekend at the end of May.  So hot that extra mobile water stations were laid on.  I seemed to find myself on my own quite a lot whilst running this one, and had Defying Gravity from Wicked stuck in my head.  I was so on my own at one point that I actually started humming it aloud!  Then at about 9 miles in, I stumbled upon a running partner.  Well, actually, I overtook her, then she overtook me, and so it continued for about half a mile until we just said why don't we run together!  We were both flagging somewhat from the heat, and it was her first half marathon.  We ended up doing a sort of run-walk a bit-run type rhythm for a couple of miles, saying we will walk until that lampost and then start running until one of us needs a rest again and so on.  It worked really well, and we had a good old chat.  I remember at one point a family had set up a hosepipe outside their house to douse any willing passing runners, and we went down to single file to make the most of it!  It was an amazing feeling as it was ice cold!  Towards the end I had a bit left in my legs so I went on ahead a bit, but I just couldn't keep it up and so I waited while she accelerated back up to me and we crossed the line together.  Do you know, I never found out her name!!  I was disappointed that I had walked during the race, and as a result my time was not great, but I put it down to the heat and vowed the next race would be a good one.

Then came the Thames 10k, a very scenic run through Beale Park in early July.  My time for this race was not far off a personal worst time, however I really enjoyed the race and felt like I had some miles left in my legs, so I left happy in spite of the time.

The next race was another half marathon, at the end of July.  It's called the Down Tow Up Flow half marathon, because it isn't a there-and-back race, it is one that follows the Thames and changes direction each year.  It was another that I found myself on my own for some of the time, but I ran every single step of this race, which was a real first for me.  My time was not great, and I remember feeling really disheartened when I saw how slow I had been.  I vividly recall sitting on the towpath waiting for Pete to come and find me and once again only focussing on the negatives and not the fact that I had run it all!  No walk breaks!

From that moment on, I didn't run another step for nearly 18 months.  I can't explain why for sure, but I know that I had been struggling to come to terms with my lack of progression.  It seemed like I was just getting slower and slower and still finding it just as hard, so I began to question if this was the sport for me.  In fact I stopped doing any exercise at all really until mid-2010 when I had a few personal training sessions at the work gym in preparation for being a bridesmaid for my best friend later in the year.  Once again I didn't feel like there was much progression, and I stopped exercising again until I met someone in late 2010 who helped me sort out my head and get myself back into it.  I started climbing, and remembered how much I loved the feeling, and decided I would start afresh with the running in 2011.

The Injury Bench - Part Two

After successfully completing my first half marathon at Henley, I did what I always do and stopped running for a bit.  I don't know why I do it, every time without fail!!  It's amazing how quickly you lose fitness considering how long it takes to build it up!

Anyway, I had entered the Reading Half Marathon in March 2008, so in the new year I dusted the trainers back off and started plodding again.  I ran the Reading Half with Sarah, and at times Sui too (she hadn't officially entered but she popped up here and there to run with us!) in a PB time somehow, despite not nearly enough training.  After that I entered a couple of local 10k runs (Shinfield and Woodley) to give me a target so that I wouldn't just grind to a total halt again.  After running both of those races, I developed pain in my right hip, that no amount of different stretching would eliminate.  I spent a lot of time limping and wincing, and so decided to use the private healthcare that is provided through work to get it sorted.

And so I found myself seeing a physio in Beech Hill.  Little did I realise that I would be asked to strip to my underwear and walk around so that the physio could see how all my joints looked, but after the tests I had gone through with the cardiac and kidney specialists I don't know why I was surprised.  I think I forgot to mention before that an ultrasound of the heart involves obviously being topless and smothered in gel, and kidney specialists also seem to require you in your underwear for some reason that I never quite fathomed!  Anyway, luckily I had been sort of prepared for being seen in my underwear with the physio (it's gonna happen for a groin strain isn't it), but I wasn't quite prepared for what happened next - Acupunture.

At this point it is worth mentioning that I am a bit of a needle-phobe.  I don't go faint or anything like that, I just have a bit of a panic in the run-up to actually being jabbed.  I think it stemmed from once having a blood test the day before an operation as a teenager when I came over a bit funny.  The nurse asked if I was OK and did I want some water, to which I replied yes please, so she walked away AND LEFT THE NEEDLE IN MY ARM to get me a glass of water.  I am not joking.  My Mum was there, she can vouch that this actually happened!  Since then I've not been so keen on needles!

So when I found myself lying there with the realisation that the physio was about to stick pins in me, I got that familiar feeling of panic.  Honestly, if I had known she was going to do it, I don't think I would have gone.  However, I am a total convert.  It didn't hurt (was a bit itchy maybe) and it worked.  I mean, I also had an orthotic to put in my shoe as it turns out my right leg is shorter than my left (it's also my right side that doesn't have a kidney, which my doctor thinks is 'interesting'), but I had immediate results after the acupuncture and found it strangely relaxing.

And so after another couple of months on the injury bench, I was back running again.  I knew I wouldn't get my fitness levels back up enough to be able to run any longer races in the Autumn, so I focussed my efforts on races in 2009.

The Fear!

Just watched this, and gotta be honest, kind of wish I hadn't!
It's a long way, isn't it.......

The Route

You can stand under my umbrella

Getting caught out in the rain isn't always a bad thing when you're out running.  In fact, it can be invigorating, refreshing and life-affirming to be caught in a shower miles from home when you're flagging.  I know you might think I'm strange for saying that, and a few years ago I might have agreed with you, but I have been running in the rain a fair few times now and I can honestly say it is no bad thing!  It gives you something to think about besides whichever part of your body (or mind) has decided it has had enough!!

There are exceptions to this however.

When the path or road you're running on turns into a stream and visibility gets so bad you can't really see where you're going, that's not quite so much fun.  I am particularly recalling a run with my friend Sarah up a road called Church Lane in Arborfield at this point, about halfway into an 8 mile run.  Although even though it was pretty miserable and felt a bit like we were wading upstream, we were still giggling about it!

But for me there is one circumstance where being caught out in the rain is really really bad.  I mean the stuff of nightmares!
Thunderstorms.
Anyone who knows me will know how irrationally frightened I am of thunder and lightening.  When I was a kid I would avoid using the phone in a storm, and hated walking under the light fittings (yes, really...).  I'm nowhere near as bad now, however it's still a phobia.  I sit in the corner of the office, on the top floor, surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, and in a particularly bad storm I have been known to retreat to the loos because there are no windows in there!!
It has happened to me twice now, being caught in a storm when out running, and it's had such a lasting effect that I am often paranoid about the weather and will completely avoid running on days where there is even the slightest chance of a storm.

The first time I was with Sarah and Sui running around The Lookout in Bracknell.  The Lookout is a forest with a load of undulating footpaths and cycleways through it, and is a really nice place for a run.  But not on this occasion!  Well, ok, so the first few miles of the run were great, and we were having a good old chat and catch-up.  But shortly before we finished, the atmosphere completely changed.  It's difficult to describe but something in the air definitely changes just before a storm is about to hit.  It gets muggy and you can almost feel the electricity in the air.  We were shielded from the worst of the rain by the trees, and then the rumbles of thunder started.  I stopped looking at my heart rate monitor as it was through the roof!!  I could feel myself getting more and more panicky with every flash and bang, but we were nearly back at the cars, and Sarah and Sui were doing a good job of keeping me relatively calm.  We got back to the cars and there was a lull in the weather, so we were having a bit of a stretch and not rushing our goodbyes, when all of a sudden there was a simultaneous flash and the loudest clap of thunder I have ever heard.  I instinctively leapt for the car, and to my surprise Sarah and Sui (neither of whom are afraid of storms) had done the same.  I was literally shaking like a leaf, and for once it didn't feel like an over-reaction!

The second time, I was out running my favourite 5 mile cow loop, on my own.  I was about 2 miles from home and had just had a little stop to chat about the weather to a guy walking his dog, who had said something along the lines of 'You'll have to run pretty fast to avoid the rain, it's about to start chucking it down!'.  We laughed and carried on in opposite directions - him down a pathway sheltered by trees, and me out onto the very exposed straight road that leads past the dairy farm milking sheds.  And then it started!  It wasn't right overhead but I could see the forks of lightening and I was terrified.  I didn't want to run down the long straight bit of road because it felt really exposed, but I knew I couldn't just stay where I was, getting drenched.  So I sprinted!  I'm not kidding, I literally ran as fast as I possibly could until I reached the next bit of cover.  And that is how I continued until I got home - sprinting from one set of trees to the next, and pausing to catch my breath before the next sprint.  At one point I saw a fork of lightening which looked like it had struck some trees just a field away from me, and at that point I did completely lose it.  By the time I got home, I was soaked to the skin, not only from rain and sweat, but from tears, because I pretty much sobbed and hyperventilated my way there!!! I remember Pete opening the door to me and giving me a big hug, despite the fact that I was dripping wet - he had been waiting for me to get home, knowing how much I hate storms.  He said if he had known where I was, he would have got in the car to come and get me!

So today, I had planned on running the 4.5 mile loop from home, which involves running along the exposed bit of road next to the milking sheds, but because the sky looked really ominous, I didn't have the guts and cut back to the shorter loop.  I felt really good though, it was one of those 'winged feet' runs, and so when my phone told me I had got to three miles, I upped my pace, and also added a bit on to the run to take it up to 4 miles.  When I got home I was well and truly out of breath, but feeling pretty amazing, and my average pace for the whole run was 11 mins and 1 second per mile.  Which for me, is pretty damn good!  And even better, not only was there no storm, but I didn't even get wet :-)

Cow Loop 25-Sep-12

I promise I won't bore you with all the details of every run I do, and besides I have Fetch for recording that stuff, but I had to share this photo from my run today.

I had a really busy and somewhat stressful day, felt like I didn't get a chance to breathe after one query before the next one came in, and so my run which had been scheduled for lunch time was put back to 5pm.  Just as well, because it was heaving it down with rain at lunch time but at 5pm the sun was out!

Anyway, just after 2 miles in, I had to come to a stop for a few minutes as my path was blocked, as you can see from the photo below!

It made me giggle anyway!  I got some confused looks from the cows!  This run is affectionately known as the Cow Loop for good reason - it passes the University Dairy Farm so I often see the cows in being milked (you should be pleased this photo isn't scratch and sniff!).  I have changed the route from the original 5 mile Cow Loop that Sarah had mapped out, because that route involved a bit of road which can sometimes be a bit busy.  Now the Cow Loop is just under 6 miles, with very little of it on roads (and even then, they are only neighbourhood streets so not busy).  In the early days of my training, we used to have to climb over these gates (and some further on), but now there is a gap in the fences making this less of an obstacle course.  Probably good given my track record!

Speaking of my track record, I learnt something new today - you can drop an iPhone 4S from waist height into a stony muddy puddle and get away with it.  Not that I am advising you do of course ;-)

Battles Won and Lost

The 5k race for life around Dorney was a turning point in my half marathon training.  I had already run a 10k race by this point (I came last, but still loved it!) and so struggling to complete a 5k had not been part of the plan!
Luckily for me (although it sounds horrible to say it) the half marathon I planned on entering (Windsor) was cancelled due to Foot and Mouth.  This was lucky for the sole reason that the next local half marathon with spaces available was a month after the one I was supposed to be running.  So a month of extra training time, which I now realised I needed more than I had thought!

I have a nasty habit of not being able to see beyond the things I haven't done so well when I'm feeling down, and with all the health worries, I had allowed myself to get into a rut.  I had lost the rhythm and routine of running, and had forgotten the release and joy it would give me.  I had to drag myself out running, I just didn't want to do it.  Every time I ran I would focus on the fact that I was slower than last time, or I hadn't gone on the day I planned, or whatever I could think of to kick myself about.  I had to change the way I was thinking, and fast!  And I only achieved this with the help of my running buddies who I turned to in my hour of need.  That and remembering why I was doing this in the first place.  My health worries were nothing compared to what Kat was going through!

So, spreadsheets were updated and a new determination kicked in.  And thanks to those running buddies - Sarah and Sui, and all of those on the Inspire running forum - I found myself standing next to Sarah at the start line of the Henley Half Marathon on October 14th 2007.

It was one of the best experiences of my life!  I grimaced and grinned in pretty much equal measure.  At one point I was so knackered trying to get up 'heartbreak hill' that I found walking almost impossible, but I carried on.  Helped by emptying a cup of water over my head, and Sarah's never-ending stash of curiously all orange jelly babies,  I found strength I didn't know I had, I got past some weaknesses, and with the help of my family and friends, I ran my first half marathon.  In doing so I also managed to raise just under £400 for Cancer Research.

See my justgiving page here

After the race I was on such a high!  I had done it!  I felt like I had battled my demons and won!

Unfortunately my joy was short-lived, as almost exactly a month later I received news of Kat's condition.  And the news wasn't good.  The chemo wasn't working and a trial she had hoped to be part of at the Royal Marsden was no longer possible because the cancer had spread to her bones.  She was being treated for the pain and to help her sleep, but there was nothing more to be done.  A few days later, on November 18th 2007, aged just 31, she lost her battle.

The Injury Bench - Part 1

Being a runner has its ups and downs.  I have spent my fair share of time on the injury bench at various points in my life as a runner.  Some as a result of running, but most not!

When I started to up my mileage in 2007 in preparation for my first half marathon, I decided to also join the gym for a bit of cross-training in the form of a pilates class.  I thought the gym pre-joining checks would be a formality, however I was soon to learn some things about myself which I am only just now really dealing with properly.
Turned out my blood pressure was high.  So high Rocci took it several times, thinking there might be an issue with the monitor.  Unable to get a reading that didn't cause him concern, he wouldn't sign me off to join the gym, and recommended I get myself checked out ASAP with my GP.  I was still relatively unperturbed by this, thinking that probably it was just his machine or I was having an off day or something.  After all, I was getting myself fit again and losing a bit of weight and just didn't really believe that I had a problem.  So I went along to my GP, who to my surprise advised me to take a break from exercising and referred me to a cardiac specialist for some tests.
Thankfully I had private healthcare through work, so I thought I would just get this all out of the way and sorted quickly, and get back to my running.
Before I knew it I was having a whole load of tests.  Ultrasound, 24 hour BP monitoring, 24 hour ECG, a barrage of blood tests, urine tests and eventually, my first MRI.  I seemed to have some sort of doctors appointment each week!  When I went to get the results from the MRI, the news was so unexpected and surreal I thought the doc was joking - turns out I only have one kidney!  Well that explained why we could only find one on the DVD I had been given and had snuck a peek at on my laptop.  It also explained why I had been in the MRI machine for a lot longer than I was told I would be - the cardiac specialists words to me were 'How to freak out an MRI technician'.  And so began a whole new raft of tests with a kidney specialist.  All the while, I was still not running and my fitness was fading further and further away.

Most frustratingly, at the end of all of this, the decision from all the specialists was just to do nothing.  I was told to continue with my exercise and weight loss and they would monitor my blood pressure.  The 'mono-kidney-itis' as it has become affectionately known in our household, is from birth and has thus far caused me no issues, and the hypertension is probably just hereditary as they could find no issues with any of my bloods or other tests they ran.

On that note I set out to run a 5k race for life around Dorney Lake that I had entered some months before, and found it incredibly hard.  I only just finished it, and I felt sick at the end, despite it being a slow time.  It was a massive knock in my confidence with only a few months to go before my first half marathon.  I just couldn't see how I would ever be able to do it.

The Next Steps (or Plods, more accurately!)

After successfully running the 5k santa fun run, I carried on with the odd plodding session to keep my fitness ticking over, whilst I decided which 5k race for life to enter.  I was already thinking to myself that maybe, just maybe, I could run further than 5k if I really trained hard and kept going.  I was thinking it to myself but I didn't have the guts to say it aloud!!
Not until one day in March 2007.  Pete and I were heading into Reading to do some shopping at the Oracle, and we noticed that we were passing a few people walking along wearing foil blankets and medals and looking very happy.  We saw some signs along the A33 and soon realised that earlier in the day, the Reading Half Marathon had taken place, and these were obviously all the happy people who had finished the race.  A completely crazy thought crossed my mind that maybe I could run a half marathon, but I quickly shook it off when I thought about how it must feel physically and mentally to run 13.1 miles. That's 10 whole miles further than I had ever managed to run before.  No way!
But the idea wouldn't leave me and I had all these thoughts flitting around my head like butterflies.

Imagine how amazing it would feel to achieve that!  Imagine how much money you could raise for Cancer Research!  Just think how much fitter you would be, you might even lose some weight along the way!

And so it came to be that I found myself writing an email to Sarah in which I tentatively mentioned my thoughts about about whether it might be possible for me to ever run that far.  I was thinking, maybe if I trained really hard I might be able to run the Reading Half the following year.  The response I got from Sarah left me excited and terrified in equal measure!!  Having been one of those people walking around in a foil blanket grinning inanely with a medal round her neck that day, the email she sent me contained a load of information about training plans, possible races and a forum I should visit on the Runners World website called Inspire.  It would seem that Sarah was more confident in my abilities than I was, as she was adamant I would be running a half marathon before the year was out!

I joined the forum, printed off the training plans, entered various races, bought myself proper running clothes and got my gait analysed for the right pair of trainers at a proper running shop (I was advised that the £10 kids ones I had at the time were not going to cut it!).

And just like that I had become a runner.  Not because I had the kit or because I posted on a running forum, but because something in me had changed, and been gripped by this sport and the sense of achievement, and possibilities it presented to me.  You see, once it has you hooked, it doesn't matter if you go long periods of time without running.  You are still a runner.  You will more than likely go running again one day soon.  The reason for this?  Well I'm sure it's different for other people but for me it is escapism, it is challenging, it is a sense of achievement like no other.  It is the things you see when you're running, like beautiful sunrises and sunsets, frosty fields, wildlife, rainbows, hail and torrential rain.  It is the sense of camaraderie and the knowing look and nod you get from other runners when you're plodding along.  It is the way it feels when you have one of those runs where you feel like you are flying!  And how you get through the ones where you feel like you're dragging a dead weight.  As one of my running friends recently posted on facebook;

Where It All Began.....

It started with my friend Kat.  Well, more specifically it started when she told me she had been diagnosed with breast cancer.  It was autumn 2005.  I was 25 and she was 28, soon to turn 29.  It was my first experience of knowing someone with cancer, and it knocked me for six when I found out.  I didn't really know how to react (googling is not to be advised I soon learnt) but I figured that as she was young, she was more than likely going to be OK.
Fast forward a year and you could have forgiven me for thinking I was right!  Kat celebrated her 30th birthday with a big party at Syngenta, which is where we had met when we had both worked there, and (more importantly) was in remission.  Unfortunately, she wasn't in remission for very long and soon afterwards we got the news that her cancer had returned.

It was this news that made me stop and look at my own life.  I enjoyed my job, had good friends and lovely family, but felt like there was something missing.  I was a latecomer to the joys of exercise, but had spent a few years going rock climbing regularly and doing lots of walking.  I had also done a bit of running with some old colleagues but nothing too serious.  Since leaving my job in the lab and starting an office job, I had started to put on weight and was feeling really unhealthy and lethargic, and was no longer regularly climbing, walking or running.  I thought to myself that this was my opportunity to make a change.  I decided that Kat would be my inspiration to get myself fit again and run a 5k race for life, in aid of Cancer Research.
I contacted my friends Sarah and Sui whom I had been running with before, and Sarah began meeting me for training runs after work.  We had set our sights on a santa fun run taking place in Marlow in a couple of months time, and were following one of the race for life training schedules.  I should point out that Sarah was already more than capable of running that distance but was happy to help me achieve my goal, for which I am still grateful - I don't think I would still be running if she hadn't kept me going in the early days!

It soon became clear just how unfit I was.  I couldn't even run for a few minutes and had to rely on an inhaler to help me.  I found it really tough going and contemplated giving up a few times, but Kat was my inspiration and I really wanted to do this for her.

And so it came to be that a few months later, somehow, I managed to run my first 5k race through Marlow, with Sarah, dressed as Santa.  As you do!
The plan then was to continue running and complete one of the official 5k race for life events the following year.

And with that, my life as a sort-of runner began!